


put a price on emotion

by dingletragedy



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Conversations, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27234595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy
Summary: episode fix it fic for the very !!!! conversation ben and callum had in the mitchell's kithcen 26/10or when ben said: "you know when i said i wanted to make a mitchell out of you, i didn’t mean like this,” callum replied with: "so how did you mean?
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 109





	put a price on emotion

**Author's Note:**

> a little fix-it types fic for yesterday's episode because i really loved the ballum scene but it could've been so much more!!! hope you all enjoy x

As soon as Callum sinks into the kitchen, door closed firmly behind him, his stomach sinks and twists itself into an ugly mess, and he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, taking in deep, shuddery breaths.

He’s still at first, eyes clenched shut just as hard as his mouth is, his fingernails digging into his palms. Then, all it takes is one short release of breath, one blink, one whispered _you can do this_ to himself, and he gets on with the task at hand. Tea. 

Before long, there’s a clatter of noise to his right, as the person leans themselves against the door frame, and Callum manages to steady himself enough to bring his startled eyes upward, but not before spilling half of the milk over the counter top. _Ben_. 

“Sorry,” Callum blurts, swallows thickly. The panic in his chest, ever-present, but it’s amplified for a new reason now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to cry over spilt milk, Cal,” Ben laughs, a short, breathy thing. And Callum feels his own mouth pull up into a half-smile, despite himself. 

“I know, but I just—,” Callum breathes, shaking his head absently, panic still sparking his veins because he’s _trying_ and he doesn’t know if he _should_ be, if all of this will only push Ben even further away from him in the end. But at least he’ll be free. _Safe_. “I’m sorry. I’ll pop to the minute mart and buy a new carton. Just let me—” 

“Hey, calm down,” Ben interrupts, hurried and voice raspy. He steps towards to put a heavy hand to the back of Callum’s shoulders to steady him, to get him to uncurl. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.” 

They rest in heavy silence. Callum refuses to turn around. 

“You don’t have to do this, y’know?” Ben says, a quiet, concerned whisper. 

“I know,” Callum answers, robotic, automatic. What choice does he have? When there’s no response, Callum turns and finally glances up. Ben is staring at him, unconvinced, thin brows drawn together, and there’s this sadness in his eyes that makes Callum’s throat swell, because he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want that look, not from Ben. _Not ever._ “I want to.” 

“But you look awful,” he breathes, staring right at Callum, the hand on Callum’s shoulder holds steady now they’re dancing each other, he’s not convinced he’d stay upright if Ben were to let go. “I know you haven’t been sleeping, barely eating. This ain’t you, Cal.”

Callum doesn’t want to crumple, but he feels his face caving, and he has to look away again. He feels caught out and hopeless, hurting because his brain is screaming at him to tell Ben _everything_ , to press his face somewhere close and comforting and just _break_ , to beg for this forgiveness he isn’t sure he deserves. Tears blur his eyes and his stomach twists and it all hurts so much. Ben’s hand leaves his shoulder and Callum almost reaches for his wrists like a reflex, to put them back, to cup his neck with them, hold him up, hold him steady.

Instead he says, “just drop it, Ben,” quick as a whip, wanting the words off his tongue in an instant. Ben balks at the harsh, unfamiliar tone of it all, the sheen wetness in his eyes, the shuddering breath he takes in as jumps back and he dumps the milk back in the fridge roughly, arms braced on the counter. 

“How can I?” Ben hisses, but his words aren’t cold. They’re anything but. “Look at you, Callum.” 

“I’m fine,” Callum says, but that doesn’t really work anymore, he knows. The little words, _it’s okay_ and _it’s fine_ and _it’s nothing._ They won’t work for much longer. He’s on borrowed time. “Everything is fine.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Ben says, because he doesn’t want Callum to shut him out now, he doesn’t want Callum to feel like he has to face this all on his own. And that’s every reason Callum has no choice but to follow every one of Di Thompson’s malicious commands. “I don’t want anything to go wrong, for you, for _us_. I’m tired of things going wrong.”

Callum shakes his head. “They won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

The sharpness is a sudden thing, Ben’s eyes downcast, and Callum doesn’t know what to say. Ben is right. He can’t know.

“If your Dad’s okay with it,” Callum tries, treading water carefully. “Why aren’t you?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend,” Ben half-shouts, and then, thick and choked, he says, “I’m your boyfriend, and _I love you._ That's why I can't just sit back and watch you destroy everything you've worked so hard for. I can't watch you lose your passion. _Lose yourself."_

Slowly, so slowly, Callum presses his hands under Ben’s chin and lifts it delicately. “I know. I know and I love you too.”

“You’re good at this.”

Ben pauses, fingers finding their way to the back of Callum’s neck, looping in the fine hairs there. 

“At what?” Ben says.

“Taking care of other people. _Of me.”_

Ben holds his breath, and he doesn’t say anything in return, can’t. Instead, he pulls the blinds firmly closed and stares at the dusty pane, the way the lamp casts shadows, the dewy honey they’re stuck in, 

“‘S funny,” Ben says on a breathless, cracked chuckle. “When we do that, y’know, care so much about someone else that we stop giving a shit about ourselves.”

 _“Ben_ ,” Callum warns. “Don’t.” 

_“Alright_.” 

“I’ll be okay,” Callum says. “You ain’t got to look after me, y’know.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispers. 

After a few minutes, Ben speaks again, barely there. “You know if…if you need help, or if there’s, like, things going on, I’m here for you, right?”

Callum pauses, deep, deep, guilt swirling inside him.

“Do you remember,” Callum whispers, words muffled by the guilt swirling in his throat, by the heavy pressure of it all, “when we were at E20, forever ago. You told me something.”

Ben pauses, his thumb still gentle at Callum’s jaw. “What did I tell you?”

“You said kindness is a weakness,” Callum says. “Do you still think that?”

Ben’s eyes fill. “No, no I don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve taught me otherwise, Callum,” Ben says, ernest. “You’re a good person. You have a good heart.”

“I don’t feel like a good person right now,” Callum whispers tightly. “I don’t feel like I’m doing my _best_.”

“Trying to be the best versions of ourselves doesn’t always mean we do good things,” Ben says. “Doing good things doesn’t always make us good. But if you’re doing something for the right reasons, with love in mind, then it’ll always be right.”

“ _Just_ —just let me do this today, okay? For you, for your _family_ ,” Callum says, and Ben’s shoulders curl in, shaking his head. “And that’ll be it. I promise.” 

“You _are_ my family,” Ben presses, feeble and caught wet in his throat, and they’re still so close. “You’ve done nothing but make me feel like I deserve to be loved. You’ve done nothing but take care of me, and be so damn patient when I’ve been anything but, and kind, and I’ve seen the way you think you ain't good enough to be part of this family. But it ain’t true. It’s just ain’t true. You’re the centre of this family, Callum. Me, you and Lex.”

Callum tries to think of something to say, but his heart is caught in his throat, emotions washing over him in one warm, tidal wave. Nothing comes. Nothing that could ever be enough. 

Thankfully, it seems Ben hasn’t quite finished, because then he says, “you know when I said I wanted to make a Mitchell out of you, I didn’t mean like this.” 

“ _No_ ?” Callum questions. There’s a heat back in his cheeks now, a flame growing in his belly. Familiar and welcomed. “So how _did_ you mean?” 

It’s just one little moment among many, when Ben presses their foreheads together. But it still makes Callum’s body sag, his eyes flicker shut, makes his heart flood with love. 

“I’m going to ask you to marry me someday,” Ben says in response. It shocks Callum, the way it’s almost conversational, whispered between them.

He opens his eyes. Ben is already watching.

“And I’m going to say yes,” Callum says softly, when he comes back to himself, Ben’s words falling away. Falling right into his heart. 

Ben’s smile is a tiny quirk of his lips, a full crinkle of his eyes. He kisses Callum softly, just one, long press of their lips. When Callum pulls away, their mouths just rest together, brushing with each inhale and exhale.

“I love you, Ben,” he says, like a mantra. “I love you so much.” 

“Love you more than anything,” Ben presses the words against his skin, mumbled and slick like he can’t help but let them tumble out now. He raises two hands to his chest too, crosses them over his heart to sign out _Love_ , before pointing a finger at Callum’s chest. 

Slowly, surely, Callum feels that all-so-familiar warmth bubbling low in his stomach. It’s odd, how the butterflies never really go away with Ben. For this moment, he’ll swallow all the guilt and pain, and he’ll hold Ben in his arms long enough to overwhelm it all with _love_. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @dingletragedy on tumblr - come say hey and please please let me know what you thought!!!


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